Concealment of A Mindset
by shadowchild613
Summary: Yumichika had confided in him, so why can't he return the favor? With such a bloodthirsty zanpakutou, is Hisagi really who he appears to be? Or is there something more lurking beneath the lieutenant's polite exterior?


**Pairings: None; no lovey-dovey, kissy-kissy, mushy ick (LOL) at all. Sorry…but not really. This was just begging to be written. XP**

**Characters: Shuuhei Hisagi, Yumichika Ayasegawa, Renji Abarai, Ikkaku Madarame, small parts for some others…**

**Rating: T (or PG-13) for attitude issues…and Kazeshini. And the Eleventh Division.**

**Notes/Warnings: possible OOC-ness , violence, language, slight spoilers…Part 1 of 2**

**Summary: Yumichika had confided in him, so why can't he return the favor? With such a bloodthirsty zanpakutou, is Hisagi really who he appears to be? Or is there something more lurking beneath the lieutenant's polite exterior?**

**Disclaimer: I no owns de Bleach-ies. I just manipulate the characters…like puppets on a string *muahahahaha!***

**On with the story….. O_o**

* * *

Renji froze as he saw the feral look currently affixed to Hisagi's face. Never before had he looked so furious, so _murderous_, and every inch the possessor of life-reaping Kazeshini. The slight smirk twitching at the edge of his lips could compete with Ikkaku's insane battle grin in regards to bone-chilling-ness. At the moment, Abarai didn't even recognize his friend and senpai, who had seemingly been replaced with a homicidal psychopath.

The raven-haired lieutenant gripped the ends of his twin-scythed zanpakutou tighter, resulting in a crushing, white-knuckled grasp. Hisagi's body language was different than before, darker and angrier; his very stance seemed to scream 'predator.'

That glare was something altogether different. A savage glint had appeared in those dark, steel-colored eyes, chilling the redhead to the bone.

This had all started innocently enough…

* * *

-0-0-0-Flashback-0-0-0-

Shuuhei had lost. Badly. That devious fifth seat had left him exhausted on a rooftop, incapable of even lifting his zanpakutou…and Hisagi hated it. The feeling of not being able to fight, for whatever reason. So he started to train harder, working whenever paperwork allowed.

He would always wind up at the same training grounds, far away from the bustling center of the Sereitei. Distant enough not to bother anyone or to be bothered, but still close enough to be ready for an emergency.

The area itself was nothing special; dummies and targets were scattered across varying terrain, which ranged from an open field to rocky hills to dense woods, all contained in a seven-acre plot of land. Here someone could train for any number of confrontational situations, but due to its' remote location it had quickly lost popularity to the newer training grounds and division dojos. Lying well off the beaten paths, disuse had allowed this field to be almost reclaimed by nature, only adding to its' secluded atmosphere.

Then one day, he snapped. Shuuhei Hisagi's formidable temper finally surfaced; if annoyance had any way to be measured, at the moment he would be far, _far _over the limit. The stress of his job had left the lieutenant-turned-acting-captain in an uncharacteristically foul mood that day, and all he wanted was to blow off some steam. One quick burst of shunpo and he was at the training field. _His_ field. Most of his division stayed far, far away when they knew that their lieutenant was practicing; the sudden intensity all too apparent in his lingering reiatsu only encouraged people to leave the frazzled fukutaichou well enough alone.

Pity. They all looked at him with pity in their eyes. If Hisagi hated anything in the world, at the top of his list would be pity. Running through a quick set of drills was doing absolutely nothing to improve his mood, so Shuuhei sucked in a deep breath, buried his fear, and unsealed Kazeshini's shikai. The more-unfamiliar-than-not weight settled in his hands and adrenaline spiked his veins. Anger won out over the peaceful teachings that had been engraved upon his soul since the very first day he set foot in the ninth division. Lies, all lies.

His body had charged straight into combat mode, every sense hyper-alert, every muscle tensed and at the ready. Arms and legs tingled with the undeniable need to _move, _blood singing through his veins and pounding audibly in his head. Hisagi's breathing sped up, helping to pull in the larger amounts of oxygen needed to send that normally calm personality into hyperdrive; every inch of his corded frame was trembling in anticipation. Like an angered cobra uncoiling for the strike, the brunet struck with intensity and speed mirroring lightening incarnate, utterly demolishing everything in his path.

Practice dummies fell innumerable, disintegrating under blasts of various kidou and Kazeshini's razor-sharp blades, the sounds making an unnerving music of sort. Chains whirled, whipped, and clanked as each scythe was hurled towards its next target, bloodthirsty and merciless in the attack. Fists and feet punctuated the melody with harsh strikes to vital areas and pressure points that would bring any adversary to its knees. All of Shuuhei's carefully constructed restraint began to unravel as the attacks gained in ferocity. Shinigami and zanpakutou moved as one on the field, finally reaching an understanding, a common ground, even if only momentarily.

* * *

Yumichika had had enough.

His captain had disappeared to terrorize a certain visiting substitute soul reaper, leaving him to watch after a sugar-high Yachiru. Ikkaku was drunkenly demanding fights from anyone who came within his field of vision, unsettling even the most battle-hardened of their men. Multiple brawls had sprung up, and various division members lay sprawled in sake-induced comas in extremely inconvenient places. The paperwork had yet to be done, and the state of the office itself was frightening.

Hell hath no fury like Yumichika Ayasegawa on the rampage. Which is why after four _long _hours of paperwork, cleaning furiously, training the new arrivals (aka: beating the fresh meat to a pulp), and stomping around muttering to apparently no one, an immensely sobered Ikkaku had shoved the irate fifth seat out of the Eleventh, demanding he go spar someone to relieve that excess irritation.

His exact words were: "Go find somebody to fight so we don't have to rebuild the entire division. You'll kill all of us if ya stay here, and the men are already so nervous it's pathetic. Come back when ya can't remember that hit list anymore."

So a fuming feather-adorned man found himself wandering the back streets of the Sereitei, meandering ever closer to the more rarely-used training grounds.

A loud crash sounded somewhere off to his right, and being the good little fighting enthusiast that he was, Yumichika promptly decided to discover the source. He noticed the faint smell of sweat and blood on the wind as the thunderous booming grew louder, meaning closer. Rounding one quick corner the effeminate man saw…

Shuuhei Hisagi? Looking absolutely ticked off, covered in sweat and small, bloody scratches. One kidou-induced explosion later, Ayasegawa could easily guess how the ninth division lieutenant had received those particular abrasions: shrapnel.

The practice field was completely mutilated, decimated to the point of being unrecognizable. The remains of dummies and plant life lay scattered in various-sized pieces, and deep gashes slit the ground in sharp-edged trenches. Did that pacifist really do all of this? The mere thought seemed inconceivable; Hisagi-fukutaichou wasn't known for his temper, or for any violent outbursts of any sort for that matter!

Yet here he was, slashing and hacking away at whatever was within reach in a macabre sort of dance. The murderous expression on his face could have made the Eleventh Division proud. Even through his surprise, seeing the normally stoic lieutenant so frustrated amused Yumichika to no end.

Maybe there was more to the normally-calm brunet fukutaichou of the Ninth Division than met the eye. He looked like a much darker version of the soul with which the fifth seat was acquainted, the aura around him practically ensuring that those in his path should fear his blade.

* * *

They never saw _anything. _It was always 'poor Kira-kun' or 'sad little Hinamori-chan.' Never anything about Hisagi; good, dependable, patient, _pacifist_ Hisagi-san.

Why? Why couldn't they see that Kira and Hinamori weren't the only ones manipulated and shaped by their captains? There had been _three_ betrayals, not two! Just because he could hide it didn't mean that Hisagi hadn't been affected too. He'd gotten good at disguising who he was and what he felt; he had to be if Kazeshini was any indication of his wielder's innermost feelings.

So Hinamori babbled on in the Fourth Division's psych ward, and Kira nearly drowned in his sake every night, but _reliable Hisagi-san _wouldn't break down in a quivering, intoxicated mess. No, he ran the Ninth all by himself, captain or no; he didn't need anybody's help.

Yeah right.

A sudden cracking noise pulled the raging Lieutenant from his stress-relieving reverie. Shuuhei froze, turning a still-furious gaze in the direction of the sound.

Hidden somewhere behind the trees, Yumichika Ayasegawa was silently cursing his luck at the now broken branch beneath his foot.

* * *

**Writer's blurb:**

**Whew, I thought I might never finish this baby. I was reading Hisagi fan fiction on one of my insomnia-induced web-browsing manias, and I realized that there weren't that many where he just let loose and showed that temper of his (where else can Kazeshini come from?). Then an image of a severely ticked ninth division lieutenant got lodged in my head and started rampaging, holding what is left of my sanity hostage. ^ ^" Thus, this one-shot was created; what with plot bunnies gnawing on my brain and all, I figured one little thing couldn't hurt…_heh…_**

**Yeah, it gets kinda intense at certain points; I've been told that this could easily be used for armed forces recruitment…thanks, so much. RAWR. . Apparently, if there's two things I'm good at writing, it's 'random stuff that makes absolutely no sense' and 'dark, moody, intense, and violent.' This would _probably _be the latter. =.=; Eeh, *shrug* 'que sera, sera'…**

**On a lighter note: Thank you so much to my _awesome_ friend Jrmerie for sorta-beta-ing this. Without your constant griping and threatening, this might have turned out quite differently. Kudos to you, turtle-chan!**

**Reviewing is awesome and much appreciated (_especially _constructive criticism!), but not mandatory… ;P**

**(Nii-san says: review or Rukia's rabid Hollow bunnies will eat your soul O_o)**


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